


The Stars I've Always Dreamed Of

by Annonninnouse



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Langst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 16:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20744906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annonninnouse/pseuds/Annonninnouse
Summary: Lance loved the ocean. He loved his family, his home, his Mama. He also loved the stars. Until the stars stop reminding him of the good things and space isn't what it was supposed to be.





	The Stars I've Always Dreamed Of

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So I felt a creative spark (for once), and just started writing, and this came out. I kind of want to change the writing style up, so I'm putting this as preface, kind of some background, and to gain feedback. Advice, plotline, etc. would be very appreciated! Thanks for reading, hope you all enjoy, Anonimouse

Fiction. An escape from the real world, to adventures hidden in between characters, whether it be the written or the made up kind. They provide a release from the real world, somewhere to hide away from problems, somewhere else to go. Happy endings arise, the protagonist falls in love and defeats the enemy, the world finds peace. A nice thought, but when the throes of reality pierce the veil, only the wisps of made up lands and the histories they hold is held within the mind.

* * *

They always called him a dreamer. Blue eyes dealt in blue, whether it be the sky or the sea. During hot summer days, Lance could only be found with his family, swimming in the biting salt water at Varadero Beach. As the sun kissed the horizon good night, a midnight blue pickup truck graced the shoreline, with sticks and coals and sweets and children just waiting for the silvery light that danced upon midnight tides. The deep contrast between the oranges and reds and yellows of soft flames with the black abyss of the ocean was often familiar, forming memories soon to be bittersweet. As fires died away, cool sand lie against a blue blanket, hosting the lanky teen. Stars were best to be seen then, after all. A map lay to the side, holding all of the sky's freckles, almost mimicking the boy's face and shoulders.

Summer faded to fall, fall to winter, winter to spring, spring to summer. The McClain Clan grew, nieces and nephews popping up. Big families meant never a day of peace, not that Lance was complaining. There was always something happening, a kind of controlled chaos that came with only the closest of families.

Sometimes, however, having constants was nice. The lapping waves not even five minutes from the petite, yellow cottage kept steady for him. So did the stars. Above all else though, there was Mama. Mama, who smelled of spices and sweets and home. Mama, with her beautiful, chestnut hair always tied up in a knot. Mama, with her blue apron, made of patchwork from years of use. Mama, whose hugs felt like safety and warmth.

Lance missed home. He missed the waves, and his family, and especially Mama. At least he still had the stars. Those stars, as Mama always said, were made for her little cielito. Mama always called out to him when he strayed too far or stayed out too late, saying "Mi cielito, come home, come home!" One day, when curiosity had finally killed the cat, Lance asked why the nickname had arisen. After a moment of silence, she whispered to the boy "only you, mi cielito, could remind me of why the stars are meant to shine."

The Garrison was a nice distraction, with friends who helped to form a new family. Hunk, who was so full of love only Mama could beat him and Pidge, a firecracker and genius who never allowed for a dull moment. The trio worked well together, becoming closer as days passed. Whether it was through training missions, flight simulators, or just hanging out, the three were a team through and through.

The nights came however, where even his newfound family couldn't help the loneliness Lance felt. The letters from home helped, but in moments, they only brought homesickness. It was his dream to fly, but the boy from Cuba sometimes only wished for the safe haven found in the aromas that filled the kitchen and the shrieks of children as games of tag filtered in through open windows. It was easier, however, to not talk about home, because home was a reminder of where he wasn't, so Lance didn't. Instead, he covered up, using humor to cope with the ache that never really left.

Among everything else, however, there was Keith. The boy who could fly so perfectly, so immaculately, that Lance knew he'd never measure up. How on Earth could he, when every day Iverson reminded him that the only reason Lance was even a fighter pilot was because Keith had issues. Because Keith was temperamental. Because Keith couldn't control himself. Not after Kerberos. There wasn't a day where Lance wasn't reminded of how much he didn't really deserve his spot. How much Lance would never live up to his "rival." How could he? How could one ever even think that they could live up to someone as good a flier as Keith. So it got added to the list. It was another way he could use humor anyways. People laughed when Lance made jokes, people saw him as something, rather than the nothing he was. It was better than being inadequate, it was better than being Keith's replacement.

And then came the day. Pidge snuck out, Lance and Hunk followed. And then they found him. Shiro. The man who Keith got himself kicked out over. The man who was everything Lance wasn't. The man who was being trapped in a cage by the Garrison. 

The break in wasn't hard, as it turns out. Apparently, pretty boys who cause distractions can be helpful. Or not. As seen five minutes later when Shiro was found. Because apparently pretty boys who cause distractions happen to be pretty boys who get kicked out of the Garrison, and can't even remember a face. No matter how cute said face may be. And hey, if there was one more insecurity to add to the list because apparently, no, Lance wasn't memorable at all, who was keeping count. 

When making an escape from a military level base holding a prisoner, subtlety is key. Or so one would think. Running while carrying a 220 pound, pure muscle, half dead, minor celebrity is not ideal. However, Lance was in that exact position. Guards seemed relatively absent at the moment, however, so there was one good grace. Up until the hoverboard-motorcycle-hybrid-thingy, that in no way shape or form is safe for five persons. Did that matter though? No, clearly not. Why on Earth should that matter though? What mattered is that Keith had a house that was safe, Shiro was rescued, and everyone was okay, because things have to be okay, right?

Everyone picked a spot to curl up in for the few hours before critical thinking skills would be required, hoping to catch some sleep. The comforting snores of Hunk filled the small cabin, with only Lance awake, seeing the first rays of a new day settle throughout the sky. Apprehension took hold of the boy's frame, coupled with a gnawing feeling that something big was going to happen. Somehow, that this sunrise, so far away from Mama, from the yellow house, from his family, from Varadero Beach, was the closest he'd be for a long, long time.


End file.
